


Out of Place

by Anarchyinplasma



Series: Ozglyn - Slices of Eternity. [45]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Short, Weapons Fair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarchyinplasma/pseuds/Anarchyinplasma
Summary: Oz and Glyn attend a weapons festival.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the wait, I'm useless at writing and timekeeping, etc.
> 
> Enjoy.

Oz sighed as Mals rushed off into the weapon convention, creating three different clones to run off to different booths to get more information and talk shop with more people. Darling made a direct line for the ballistics area, some of whom were apparently in need of a hyperkinetic to demonstrate some of the fidelities of their new product lines, meanwhile Oz and Glyn were left standing in the entryway, feeling a tad self conscious about their blunt instruments that served, as Mals would put it, as ‘whacking sticks, or temporally augmented whacking sticks’.

“I don't suppose you need anything…?” Oz let the question hang, wincing as Glyn raised an eyebrow at him.  
“It's a riding crop, Oz, not exactly the most technologically marvelous of weapons.” After a moment, she continued, “you don't need anything do you?” Oz shook his head. Glyn sighed then swore and sprinted off as her eye caught Mals at a weaponry prosthetics booth. Oz sighed as the Branwen was escorted away and reminded that she had a perfectly functional arm, and was not to chop it off for an upgrade.

“Some day, Mals, a descendant of yours will lose a limb, please be more careful with yours.” Glynda was the only one to catch the slight undercurrent in his voice, the one that meant his semblance was playing havoc with his brain again, and entwined her fingers with his, grounding him in the present. Mals pouted before sprinting off in the direction of a booth promising an open competition for entered weapons, she'd probably seen another medal to add to her collection. Oz's scroll buzzed with a message from Darling, requesting his presence to look at bullet flight mechanics. Glynda trailed behind him as they walked to the ballistics booth, sporting a number of high power rifles in the entryway.

They found Darling inside, re-sighting the rifle he was using. He greeted them and took position of the firing line, glancing at Oz for a ready signal. His team leader gestured for him to fire and spun time down as the bullet exited the barrel, walking over and pulling Darling and a few indicated ballistics experts into his accelerated time frame. After the experts has gotten over the shock, fielded the usual sixteen offers to hire him at a six figure salary, and then begged a bit more, they turned to debate the bullet flight with Darling.

After helping there, Oz and Glyn enjoyed a light lunch in the cafeteria, wandered around for a couple of hours, and finally, gathered their team as left for the last airship back to Beacon. Mals proudly sporting another half dozen medals for weaponry design (best overall, most imaginative, most practical, most in one, new tech in weaponry editors choice, and sharpest blade), with Ascendent Crescendo to be featured in several publications running next month. Darling was carrying several hundred rounds of custom tooled ammunition, dust infused, and with flight dynamics he could use to split the bullets on a pane of glass.

Glynda and Oz were holding one and four hotdogs respectively, Glynda happily munching away at hers while Oz juggled his, Darling’s, and Mals’ two. As they were welcomed aboard the ship and Mals dug into her food, Glynda laid her head on Oz's shoulder. Overall, it had been a successful trip.


End file.
